But the man, apparently not afraid of dying, forcefully grabbed Annabelle Linton's shoulder, ready to slap her again.
A sharp glint flashed in her eyes. Annoyed, she glanced at the blood seeping through the white bathrobe, then lashed out with two slaps and kicked him to the ground. "You were given an inch and you took a mile. I didn't even want to bother with you, but you just had to force me to dirty my hands."
Just like that, Annabelle Linton kicked down a man who weighed well over 180 pounds.
'It takes a hundred days to recover from a bad injury. After two months of recuperation, after all the trouble of getting stitches, applying ointment, and being bandaged up, the wound had finally scabbed over. In a few more days, the gauze could have come off and it would have been almost healed. And now it's split open again, hasn't it?'
Blood slowly began to trickle down, staining the snow-white bathrobe red.
